Everlark
by The Baker's Love
Summary: The Hunger Games are finished, the districts restored as much as possible. Katniss and Peeta can now grow back together. They slowly begin to gain their lives back and become normal people again. Well, as normal as they can be after what they've been through. Everlark takes place in the 15 year span of time between the end of Mockingjay and the epilogue. Please comment/review/rate!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I tell him, "Real."

He's thinking. I can tell he's content with my answer by the way his arms tighten around me, but his brow is furrowed in thought.

I slide closer to him and lift my head up to face him. Our eyes meet and mine silently ask him, "What's wrong?" He breaks our gaze and sighs in frustration. My eyes ask again. This time he meets my eyes with a look of pure pain, and I can see tears forming in the corners. I know immediately what is happening.

A flashback.

I sigh and lay my head on his chest. His hands squeeze instinctively around my arm and hand, only, the flashbacks make it different. Normally, he holds me warmly as we fall asleep- until my nightmares wake us. But when the flashbacks come, he holds onto me until his knuckles turn white. As if he's afraid he's losing me.

But that will never happen.

I have grown used to this ritual though. Just as my nightmares have become a nightly occurrence, Peeta's flashbacks are a daily one. Yet, I know I can't complain. I've caused him so much grief that I am fine with a little squeezing. Still, I know my being near him isn't helping his cause.

"Should I leave, Peeta?"

By now, his eyes are closed and he's breathing heavily, so he just subtly shakes his head, "No." I sigh and slowly pry his fingers off of me. I lay his hands down by his side and stroke his left arm gently. He starts to shake as I sit up. All I can do is watch him progress through the stages.

The first is the initial reaction from the flashback. This is where the squeezing and heavy breathing come in. Sometimes the flashbacks are weak and Peeta breaks them before they get any farther. Other times Peeta can't block them out and they get to stage two. This is the stage where he starts shaking. He can't talk, move, or even open his eyes. This is his current stage. But occasionally, his flashbacks get ever farther than this, to the third stage. I've only ever seen this happen a few times since we've first been able to distinguish the stages and control the flashbacks. This stage is when the residual venom takes over and starts to control Peeta again. I only know of two things to stop it and they are to either do what I did when we were running from the muttations and peacekeepers during the rebellion. I have to bring back a memory I know he can't forget. And, I have to kiss him.

But kissing him causes more pain for him than he has during the flashback itself. So I only do it if I absolutely have to. And at this point, I do. He's slipping. I know there's nothing else I can do but I still feel terrible that he has to go through it all.

The only other thing I can do is leave and let it run it's course.

Peeta's been strong through this one but his shaking is getting more intense so I know he's fighting the worst of it. I take his hand in mine very gently.

"I should go," I whisper to him.

His face begins to turn pink to red and his hand tightens around mine. Then, through nearly closed lips, and with undying love and complete desperation, I can barely hear him muster the words, "Stay with me."

I know he's starting to come back to me. He hasn't been dragged into stage three. But even still, I can't risk it. I may not have much time to act if the hijack is still in effect. He could still be taken under. So I lift his hand to my lips, kiss it lightly, and say the only word I know will pull him back from the false reality.

"Always." And then I kiss him.

He pauses momentarily to return the pressure of my kiss and slowly loosens the grip he still holds on my hand. Then he begins to violently shake and he throws my hand to the side. He grips the sheets on the bed and clenches his teeth. This is the most terrifying part. He always seems so hostile and unpredictable when he's in this state. But I know even if he was capable of any other movement besides shaking, he would be of no danger to me. Not like when I first got him back, in thirteen. He's come so far with the control that I trust him with my life, even during the flashbacks.

Finally his shaking begins to slow down to a dull shudder. I stoke his hair out of his face, the sweat from his brow, and wait for his eyes to open. I whisper sweet nothings to coax him out of the last shreds of the hijack. Then, finally, I see his eyes start to flutter. I sigh in relief and meet his gaze as his eyes fully open. He blinks a few times before meeting my expectant eyes. The beautiful, healthy blue is restored and he smiles as soon as our eyes meet. He sighs in relief and brings his hand up to the back if my head. He gently runs his fingers through my hair - which is not in my familiar braid at this point - as we gaze into each other's eyes, smiling. I lean down and rest my forehead against his when he pulls me towards him. I don't resist when he kisses me, or when his hands find the sensitive spot just above the small in my back, or even when I feel that same hunger I felt during the first of our games in the cave, or on the beach in our second. I never feel fully satisfied when I get this hunger. It feels as if no matter how long we kiss, or how intimate we really get, it will just never be enough. So they don't stop.

Until Peeta pulls away. Since we've grown back together, he's been so careful with me, always handling me like I'll break in half the minute we get too close. I know why he does it. In reality, any minute he could slip. But sometimes, most of the time, I wish he would let us go farther. I've gotten to the point where a few kisses aren't enough for me anymore. I will sometimes try to push for more, but I never get anything from it. In fact, I'll be starved for attention for the next few days until he can't take it anymore and finally gives in. Then the whole cycle starts over again. I'm growing tired of the routine.

The only time I can ever get closer to him is when he calms me from my nightmares. Even though as I wake, through my thrashing and screaming, he takes a beating, he never strays away or retreats. He holds me as tightly as possible, whispering into my ear as I slowly come out of it. Then, as we wait for my heart rate and breathing to slow, he sings to me. Something I never knew he could do until one night, what seems like a lifetime ago, when my nightmares had gotten so bad no amount of cradling or soothing could help me.

That was the first time I heard him sing.

I was being thrown to the ground repeatedly, each time, a splatter of blood leaked onto the grass below me. _This is it. I'm done for. I knew I couldn't trust them. I should have killed them while I still had the chance. And now it's too late. I'm hopeless. _I was being swarmed by my allies from the Quarter Quell. Finnick was the main attacker, his merciless eyes stared into my helpless ones as he continued to beat my head against the ground. Johanna, who was perched slightly behind him, was shouting various profanities and battle cries. Wiress was tick-tocking incessantly into my now bleeding ear and Beetee was holding some metal and wire contraption above my head with a sickening grin and the eyes of a killer. There was no sign of life anywhere around me, that I could tell. My eyes were blurred with blood, sweat, and tears, and between Johanna's cries and Wiress's ticking I couldn't hear much else. _I have to fight. I can't just lay here and let them have their way. Peeta would have wanted... _Peeta. Where was he? Couldn't he hear or see what was going on? He could stop them! _"Peeta!" _somehow managed to escape my blood-caked lips. Even if he was right next to me I doubt he could hear me. _Peeta, _I thought. _Peeta. I love you. _Just then, my eyes cleared and there he was. Kneeling above me with that smile I have seen so many times over the years. He reached down to hold me and I began to wrap my arms around his neck. But all I felt was warm air. Very, very warm air. It was burning me. I tried to rest my arm on his shoulder but my hand went straight through. The more I moved, the more air-like he became. And the more I became burned. His smile faded and his eyes grew worrisome. _"Peeta," _I asked. _"What's happening?" _Then, a flash. Bright white light blinded me as I tried to feel my way into a sitting position.

That's when I heard the singing.

Beautiful melodic tones drifted into my head from an unknown source. I couldn't tell exactly what words the notes were carrying, but I felt them wrap around me and begin to lift me into the air, gently carrying me away from the destruction down below.

I am completely at peace when I awake. My eyes are closed and I am smiling. I still hear the singing but now I know where it's coming from. It's my savior next to me in my bed. The love of my life who would give up everything just so I could take one more breath. It's the one and only person who could ever make me feel whole again, after all that I've lost.

I now understand what the words to the song are and they immediately bring back the memories I had forgotten in the moments before.

_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true._

_Here is the place where I love you._

My smile fades as I open my eyes but immediately it slides back into place when my eyes rest upon the face of the voice that sang me out of my nightmare.

The face of Peeta.

He is smiling back at me. He stops singing but the words are still hanging in my ears. I don't hesitate to curl into him and press my lips against his. They would have found each other eventually, but Peeta always tries to put it off for as long as possible. This bothers me though. So I usually make the first move.

My arms find their way around his neck and his find that spot on my back that always pushes me closer into him. I can feel him try to pull away, but I don't give him the opportunity. My arms tighten around his neck as I pull myself closer to him. I feel him start to give in just as we hear a knock on the door.

I realize it was more of an afterthought for the intruder to knock once our condition was noticed. Yet, there he is, looking as sloppy and drunk as usual, standing in the doorway of my bedroom, wide, confused eyes looking us up and down, trying to get a grasp on what was being witnessed.

"Haymitch!" I bark. "Why on earth are you in my house?"

Haymitch, still trying to process images, only stares for a minute. Finally he remembers his business for being here. "I was taking a walk when passed by your place and I heard you screaming," he says, slurring nearly every word together. "I was just checking on you, sweetheart."

"Well, Peeta's here, Haymitch. I'm okay now," I reply, probably a little too sharply.

"I can see that. You two are _just fine," _he says, far too pointedly for my taste.

"Do you need some help home, Haymitch?" Peeta asks as he gets up, taking any opportunity to get some distance between us. Still, as much as we've been through, Peeta has been nothing but kind and helpful towards Haymitch. Even during the bad times.

Haymitch waves him off. "Nah. I'm fine. I can do it." He turns and starts to go. "Besides," he pauses in the doorway and looks over his shoulder at us. "You have some other business to take care of." And he's gone. But not before I can throw my pillow in his direction.

Peeta laughs. "Haymitch." He shakes his head as he settles back in beside me.

Then, from the hallway, I hear, "Don't waste your energy on me, sweetheart!"

I'm on my feet before he can say, "sweetheart."

I'm at the door when I hear Peeta hit the floor. I stop, dead in my tracks, and whip around as I see him sprawled out on the floor with his artificial leg curved behind him at a very unnatural angle. His face is in agony as I rush to his side.

"Peeta!" My hands immediately find his leg and attempt to find a way to turn it into it's correct position. "I'm so sorry!" His hands grab hold of mine and push them off. He manages to swing his leg around on his own but he can't get up. I frantically stand and try to pull him up, but unlike our first games when all he could do was not resist, all he is doing now is resisting. My eyes find his and he sputters, "Haymitch." He lifts his shaking arm out and points to the person standing back in the doorway.

"Well, well, sweetheart. I didn't expect you to get going at it so fast," he chuckles as he leans against the doorframe.

"Not now, Haymitch!" I snap. "Just help him!"

"You have to be careful when you do these things."

I'm about to spring when I hear Peeta from behind me. "Katniss," he squeaks.

My eyes dart over to him to see him struggling to stand on his own. I fly to his side and my arms slide around his waist to pull him up. He pushes himself up onto his now slightly more willing, but still shaking, legs, leaning on my shoulder and the bed he fell off of to get to me. Haymitch saunters over to help but I push him away. I won't let him touch Peeta. Not after that last comment.

I somehow manage to get Peeta up on his feet and back into bed without the help of Haymitch, which I am quite proud of. I tuck Peeta into bed and make sure everything is right with him. He gives me a smile of reassurance. I kiss him on the forehead before I turn to face the man I've scratched and scarred before on an occasion like this. I consider this option again until I feel Peeta's hand on my arm. His hand feels cool against the raging blood under my skin. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly I can be calmed by him. He _is_ the dandelion to my fire, though. Always waiting, patiently, to tame the blaze.

"Everything's fine, Katniss," Peeta soothes. He addresses Haymitch. "Thank you for coming back but we've got it from here. We'll call you if we need you." Haymitch gives Peeta a smile and nod while I get a smug grin as he turns and goes. I watch him as he rounds the hallway and goes down the short flight of steps. I count each step to be sure he's still leaving. _One, two, three, four. Good._ I listen until I hear the front door close. And then I hear it lock. From the outside. _So that's how he got in _I think to myself. Once I am sure he's gone from the property, I turn to face the person who is still holding my arm and trying to smile through the pain.

I move to his side. "Do you need anything for the pain?" I ask. My mother always sends us supplies from her new hospital in four, so we always have supplies on hand. "I'll have to read the directions my mother sent, but I can probably get an IV into you."

He raises his hand to my cheek and gently strokes it. "All I need is for you to calm down and come to bed." I can't help but oblige.

I move to my side of the bed and slide in beside him. He warmly wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close. I lay my head on his chest and I can feel his warm breath on my neck. I know he wants to mention what Haymitch said but he knows that would not be wise now. Not when I'm just wearing down. After a few moments of sustained silence, I decide to break it.

"You know," I begin. "I may not be the one we have to worry about breaking."

"Oh no," he gently replies. "We definitely still have to worry about that." He lifts my chin so out eyes meet. "I just didn't want you to do something you'll regret later." I pull my chin down out of his hand and into his chest. Peeta chuckles. "I'm sure he was only joking."

"Well it was hilarious," I say as sarcastically as possible through gritted teeth.

"Oh Katniss. Give him a break. You know he likes to mess with you."

"Well I like to claw his eyes out but you don't see me going that, now do you?"

"You would if you could, right?" Silence from my side of the conversation. "Plus, he only does it because he gets a reaction from you."

"Oh I'll give him a reaction." I'm getting worked up again. I can feel my blood pressure rising.

I'm expecting some long speech from Peeta about how Haymitch has done nothing but good things for us and how without him we wouldn't be alive. But instead, all I get is, "Don't give him the satisfaction." I ponder this a minute but ultimately I decide I need to sleep.

I look up to meet his sleepy eyes. "Goodnight," I whisper. Then I kiss him and I settle in for the night.

"Goodnight," Peeta says before he kisses the top of my head. I'm about to slip into a doze when I hear him very faintly say, "Katniss?"

My eyes flicker open, quizzically, but I don't sit up. "Yes, Peeta?"

"I need to tell you something but I'm not sure I can."

Now I'm really curious. "You can tell me anything, Peeta," I reassure him.

He struggles to get out each word. "I... I love you... Katniss."

It's the first time since he's been hijacked that he had openly said he loves me. It has always been a very painful experience for him to openly admit it, what with all the venom coursing through his veins. It usually leads to a flashback. Yet, I have never questioned his love for me as he has my love for him. But after we worked through the hijack that first time it was clear my love for him was real. I had never said it to him and he never could say it to me but we understood how we felt. It didn't need to be spoken. But when I heard those words leave his tortured lips, I knew where we were. There's no denying it or pretending anymore. These weren't the games. There are no more cameras following our every move.

This is our life. Our life that we get to spend with each other forever. I have no inkling of doubt in my mind how I feel about him just as I know exactly how he feels about me. And I know both feelings are one in the same. There's only one thing left to do. I straighten up and lean on my arm against his chest. My gray eyes find his blue ones and they lock.

Then, in the most sincere voice I am capable of producing, in the utmost unconditionally devoted way I know how, I return his phrase.

"I love you, too, Peeta."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Every morning when I wake up, I look out my window. I see the same two things in the same places every single day. I see the primroses Peeta planted in honor of my late sister, Prim. In the winter they are closed when I wake up. They sleep under a layer of sparkling white snow until I go out and clean them off. Prim never liked to be cold. In the spring they are just barely opening when I wake in the morning. Their sleepy faces barely peek out when I wake up. But in the summer they are fully open, their pink, smiling faces look up at me when I see them. This is my favorite time of year for the roses. They always look so happy down there, swaying with the wind. Prim was always so terrified of weather, but she adored wind.

I remember she would sit out on the front step and just let the wind blow around her. I used to do the same thing, even before she was born and wanted me to join her. Prim loved to leave her hair down for the wind. She told me once, the reason she left her hair down in the wind was so she could try to make her hair smell as nice as the wind. The wind would usually blow from the woods, which she liked very much, but also there would be days when she would come in smelling like the mines or dirt or other not as pleasant things. But she never cared. She was always happy with the way the wind smelled. I heard her, on many occasions when she was younger, actually compliment the wind on his sweet scent. And when she would ask me to go out and sit with her, we would sit out there for hours, letting our hair soak up the scents of district 12.

But one day, before she was born, I went out to greet the wind and I noticed something strange. That day the wind smelled like nothing I had ever smelled before. I was so intrigued by this new experience that I got up off the step and followed the trail of scent. The scent led me to a place I had only ever seen from a distance. I had never had a reason to go there before, but I had seen my father and mother visit on many occasions.

The place was the bakery. I walked up to the side, not sure if I was allowed to be near this place, and carefully looked around the corner to the storefront. The platform was empty except for a boy, who seemed to be my age, sitting on the front, cleaning a small piglets tiny pink face. I strained my eyes to try to see the face of the boy but it was no use. He was too far away and buried in his work and I was sure he didn't want to be bothered by me. So I started to go back home. As I turned, I heard a woman screaming words I couldn't understand coming from inside the building. I turned back to see what was going on and I see the boy jump up, pig in hand, and run towards the side of the building I inhabited. I took off running towards home, never looking back to see if he saw me or where he went. I just took off for home.

But before I ran I saw the boy's face. I knew him from school, from music assembly. When I sang the valley song up on the stool a few days before, on the first day, his eyes were glued to me the whole time. I wasn't sure if he was breathing either but I kept singing until I was finished and the class applauded for me. The teacher congratulated and thanked me and helped me off the stool. As I walked back to my chair nearly all my classmates gave me various words of encouragement. One of the few who didn't was the shy boy I saw that day. And now, as I remember his face, the familiar blue eyes and also familiar blond hair of that boy belonged to no one other than my very own Peeta.

I just didn't know it then.

The second thing I see is a mockingjay. He sits on his house Peeta built and decorated, chirping and mocking the outdoor sounds. I think he appreciates his house. I know I would. It's a basic birdhouse shape but with a tray of fresh food, several standing posts, and beautiful swirling designs on the roof with real growing plants along the back edge. He moved in just a few days after Peeta set up the house. I saw the bird carrying in all sorts of nesting materials into his house just minutes after moving in.

But this morning I see something new in the little house. I see my usual bird friend sitting on the front perch and behind him, just barely peeking out of the house, is another bird, shyly examining the area before sliding out of the door. The first birds greets this newcomer and moves to make room on his perch. I can now see the new mockingjay has more brown than black or white, distinguishing her as a female.

My mockingjay friend has a girlfriend.

I watch them as they converse, mocking each other's tones and songs until I hear a new song coming from the house. The pair turn and the female enters the house. She exits with a tiny baby mockingjay stumbling around in front of her. The male examines it and picks a piece of straw from it's delicate feathers. The baby stumbles as it tries to walk onto the food platform. The mother gently guides it with her long beak and deposits some digested worms into a pile in front of the baby. The baby then fluffs its tiny wings and begins to eat. The parents seem satisfied with this and they go back into the house.

Summer mornings in district 12 are windy. There's always a cool wind blowing through. And this morning is no different. I can see the baby is shivering from the chill he is not yet used to. When he tries to get up though, the chills force him back down, into his food pile. He keeps trying but he just can't muster up the strength to stand up and get in the house and out of the wind. On his last attempt, a huge breeze comes and sweeps him into the air. He flaps and squawks but he can't fight it: he's thrown into the air.

I immediately panic. This baby can't be more than a week or two old. He can't fly. And this wind just knocked him right off the platform. He doesn't stand a chance. I see his parents rush out of the house and try to catch him from the wind. But they can't get a hold of him. I don't stop to think. I only act. I run out of the room, down the stairs, and on my way out of the door, I grab a towel from the kitchen as I run into the backyard to save the bird.

I see the baby, bouncing along the ground, the wind threatening to take him away. I dash out towards him, desperately trying to catch up to him. The parents are flying after him, diving into the ground, trying their very best to catch him as well. But I'm just a bit faster.

I reach the baby when the wind calms for a second. I toss my towel on top of him, gently, and he screams in protest. The wind picks up again but this time he's safe. The towel is holding him down. I see him bobbing up and down under it, trying to find a way out. His parents finally catch up, but won't come near me. They fly above waiting for the opportunity to take their baby back. I slowly uncover the baby, carefully lifting him into a pocket in the towel. I sit him in my hand and he takes up my whole palm. Then I pull up the sides but show the parents I have him. Then I walk him back over to the birdhouse. The parents follow overhead, still weary of the whole situation. I gently slide the baby onto the platform and coax him into the house. He staggers in to his siblings and I back away to wait for the parents. When I'm back against the house, they finally come back down and go back home. I watch and listen for a few minutes to the chirping and mocking from all the birds. I hear five different songs which should mean five different birds. But then they start to copy each other so the number starts to dwindle until I only hear one, very alarming tone, coming from all five birds.

Just then, the baby flops out of the house, onto the platform and right off, into the yard. The wind isn't blowing like it was a minute ago so he doesn't blow away, but there are no rushing parents this time. No more squawking. Nothing. Just a baby bird, who threw itself onto the yard, shivering from the light breeze. I am absolutely stunned. One minute the parents are risking everything to save him, and now, I think they may have been the ones to kick him out. I stand and watch to make sure no minds are changed but then I walk over, with my towel, and examine the baby. He seems completely fine except for being cold. I don't know what to do.

I need Peeta.

I cover the baby, which he begins to yell about, and I go in the house to look for him. Usually, he'll still be in bed when I wake up, so I check the bedroom first. Sure enough, he's there, sound asleep. I go over to him and lightly shake him awake.

"Peeta," I whisper.

He mumbles some inaudible words as he stretches and his eyes flicker open.

"Peeta. I need your help."

He is immediately awake. "What?" he asks "What is it? What's wrong? Are you okay? Do you need something?"

"I'm fine," I assure him. "I just need you to help me with something."

He sits up. "Sure. Sure. What is it?"

I explain to him what happened but as I tell him, I remember something my father always used to tell me. _Never touch a baby animal, especially baby birds. When their parents smell human on them they will abandon them. And babies can't survive on their own. _And then it all made sense. When I put the towel on the bird, it probably had my scent on it. And then when I shooed him off the towel, I did touch him to push him into the house. He had my scent. And his parents abandoned him.

"Well where is he?" Peeta asks.

I realize where I left him. I grab Peeta's arm and we rush into the backyard. Still in our night wear, we run to the rescue of the bird in the yard. He is still under his towel, but he's not struggling and barely squeaking anymore.

He can't breathe.

Peeta carefully moves the towel off the baby. He is barely moving as he lays on his back with his tiny, bony wings laying at his sides. With no sign of his parents, I pick him up very carefully and place him in my palm. He takes up my whole palm and his soft, black wings hang off the sides of my hand. His tiny head just falls to the side as his tiny eyes flutter like he's having a nightmare. _I know how that feels, baby_ I think to him. _You'll get through it._ I feel Peeta right behind me, looking at the helpless bird in my hand. He cups my hand with his and pulls it towards him. He tilts my hand as he carefully examines the baby's tiny body.

"He's still alive," he says. "He's just in shock. He doesn't know what just happened. All he knows is that he's alone now and that two humans are handling him."

"Well what do we do?" I ask. "The parents won't take him. But he's too young to live on his own. He can't even fly."

"Well then we'll take him," he says, matter-of-factly. "I've always wanted a baby. And I know you don't want to have any. So maybe this can be our adopted child." A pause. "What do you say?"

I don't know how to react. On one hand, I'm happy to let Peeta take care of a baby bird instead of a real baby, because he sure isn't getting one from me. But on the other hand, neither of us know anything about taking care of baby birds. I know Peeta would be crushed if something happened to his baby. And with no experience, the chance of something happening grows every day the baby is with us. Still, I know he really wants a baby, something to take care of, and here's a baby, helpless and doomed without us. So maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing, to have something around the house. But not like a baby. Like a pet. I can take care of a pet. Even if the pet is a baby bird. I'll figure it out. And that would give Peeta something to nurture and be a father for. I guess it wouldn't be a terrible idea.

I look up from the baby to look at Peeta. He is smiling, patiently awaiting my reply. I smile and shake my head. "How can I say no to that?"

"Really, Katniss?" I nod and he slides the baby out of my hand into his. He holds him close to his face and tilts the tiny baby head towards his own. "Hello, my baby. Hi, buddy. I'm going to be your daddy. I'll take care of you. And see that beautiful girl right there?" He turns his hand so the baby is facing me. I blush. "That's mommy. We're your parents. And we love you very much." Just then, the baby did something I hadn't seen it do since it was pushed out of the nest. He opens his beautiful black eyes and looks right into Peeta's. He stops shivering and curls his fragile wings against his sides. As their eyes met, the baby let out one tiny, content chirp. Peeta smiled. "Look, Katniss. He's looking at me. And he's talking to me."

I smile and move closer to the pair. "He doesn't even know you and he already loves you."

"Just like how I felt about you the first time I saw you," he said as he turns to face me. I try to hide the blush I know is attempting to cover my face again. We lean into each other and hold our child between us. I look down at him and I can't help but smile. This tiny thing is starting to grow on me. Just seeing Peeta so happy makes me feel like anything's possible. Which is probably why I am smiling at our new bird child right now. We have come so far and now, I feel as if we could accomplish anything. Even raise a child.

"What should we call him?" Peeta asks. "All babies need to be named."

I've always been terrible at picking names. My father was the one who did the naming. Around the time my sister was due to be born we all sat down one day to discuss names. We all agreed we liked to be named after plants or something meaningful to our district. My mother wanted fluffy names like Chrysanthemum - "We could call her 'mum' for short. Wouldn't that be cute?" she would say- and Daffodil - "I love waking up to the smell of daffodils on the wind". I liked Katniss -I was quite insistent she be named after me, although I didn't quite grasp the concept. I _was_ barely five. But my father picked beautiful names: Ivy, Azalea, and Primrose. Those were the girl names. The boy names from my mother were Axl and Jacinto. My choice was still Katniss. And my father liked Nalin and Florian. Once Prim wad born and we found out what she was, we were thrilled to have a girl and more than happy to let my father name her - well I wasn't but I got over it. And when I look down at that tiny baby in Peeta's hands, all I see is Prim, and all I want is a beautiful name for him. And I know Peeta can give him that. "You pick," I tell him.

Peeta thinks about it for what seems like forever. Then, finally, the light bulb starts to shine. "I've got it," he says. "I would like to name him after my father and I'm sure you would like to do the same for yours so let's combine the names. My father, James, and your father, Abraham, so what about... Ramses? I know it's not a perfect match, but maybe it could work?"

I can tell he's not happy with his creation. But as I piece it together and I feel it roll around in my head, I know there could be no other name for our baby. And to think he put so much thought and meaning into it meant so much to me. He may not have thought it was perfect, but I definitely did.

"It's perfect," I tell him.

"What?" he asks, very surprised at my reaction. "You really like it?"

"Peeta," I explain. "My father has always been the most important male figure in my life. And I was lucky enough to have him as my father. And I know you highly respected and loved your father very much."

"I did," he says. "Not a day goes by where I don't think of him."

"Exactly. And here, this baby comes along, and you have this beautiful idea to combine the names of two of our most important people in our lives and turn it into a perfect name. It truly is perfect." I can feel the pressure building behind my eyes. And I know Peeta sees it too. His eyes get wide with both astonishment and excitement. A smile creeps across his face and he holds the baby out to me.

"Want to hold Ramses?" Ramses is now looking at me as if knowing I'm the mom and I'm supposed to give him chewed up worms for breakfast. But instead I just take him in my hands and let our "beaks" touch.

"Hello, Ramses. I'm mommy." With that, the baby sticks out his tongue and licks the tip of my nose. I can't help but smile about this. Just a minute ago I was trying to think of a way to tell Peeta we couldn't keep it. And now, I'm voluntarily calling myself its mommy. I shake my head. "Let's get him inside," I tell Peeta. I stand and reach to give Peeta a hand and realize for the first time what he is wearing: nothing but his night shorts. But lucky for us, our only close neighbor is Haymitch, and there is no way he would be awake this early. So the chances of someone spotting him are slim to none. Still as soon as I see him I throw him the baby's towel.

Once he realizes why I've thrown the towel at him, he starts to try to make himself decent, without much avail. "What is this supposed to cover?" he asks, jokingly draping it over his head and shoulders.

"I don't know," I reply. I scan the area for passersby. "Just... Cover yourself."

"You still can't deal with nakedness," he jokes.

I snatch the towel back with the hand I'm not still holding Ramses with and smack Peeta with it. "No I can't!" I snap. "Now go change into real clothes." I start to walk towards the house.

"I have to get naked for that," he mocks.

I ignore him as Ramses and I walk into the house. I go into the kitchen to get a home set up for him as Peeta follows us inside and goes upstairs.

He calls to me from the top of the stairs. "Let me know when you get over your fear of nakedness!"

I look down at an expectant Ramses. "Don't worry, Ramses. Mommy won't let daddy tease you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I love waking up every Sunday morning to hunt. Even if Gale is away with some fancy job in two, it doesn't mean I can't spend my hunting day doing what I do best. I've tried to take Peeta and teach him to shoot but it is impossible for him to be nimble or quiet. I know it's not his fault but I can't help but get frustrated with him.

Once, I went in the woods, with Peeta, to the spot where Gale and I used to sit and talk on our hunts together. I wanted to show Peeta my past in these woods and try to make some new memories but just as we began our trip, a massive eight-point buck strolls into view. I immediately take cover out of the buck's sight and pull Peeta with me. He, naturally, steps on every twig and fallen branch on the way making so much noise I still don't know why the deer didn't take off. But he didn't. He stayed and grazed while I readied my bow.

I swung around to the other side of our oak tree shelter to get a more clear shot. Just as I was about to pull back, Peeta moves to join me on the new side and his leg got caught on a fallen branch. He slams to the ground causing birds to fly, leaves to crunch, branches to crack, and the beautiful buck to run off. _Just like Gale, _I thought. Sometimes they were so similar it was scary. But they are different in the only way that really matters. Gale is the fire and Peeta is the flower. Destruction and rebirth. One I already have and one I need someone to provide.

"Peeta!" I yell. I rush to his side and pull him up. "Are you alright?"

"I'm so sorry, Katniss! I'm so sorry! I-"

I cut him off. "Peeta," I soothe. "It's alright. I'm not mad." Even though I am. "I'll get something else. It's no big deal." I'll catch all the other 200 pound deer roaming around the woods in broad daylight.

I want to say it. But I know it wouldn't be kind or necessary to say. I have plenty of snares and other little traps set up that should at least give me some good meat for later in the week.

"I'm still sorry. You would have had him if I wasn't here. I should go." He turns to go. "I'll be waiting for you at home." He starts to walk off but I catch his arm before he can leave.

"Wait, Peeta," I say to him. "I have something I need to show you."

"I cause more trouble than I'm worth, Katniss. Just let me go home." He tries to pull away. But I pull him back.

"Hey. If I say you can stay, you can stay. So you're stuck here with me now." I take his hand in mine and give him one of my rare half smiles, versus my usual scowl. This makes him smile back and return the pressure of my hand.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Positive," I reply. It takes a moment to get him going but then we're off. We start walking, hand in hand to the place I never thought I could be with anyone besides the person I haven't seen in what seems like a lifetime. I take him to the place I only link with one person. I don't like to share so when I find myself standing on the edge of the pond my father and I used to come to whenever we could get away, I know Peeta is on a level with me I didn't realize anyone else could be besides my father.

He doesn't know the significance. He looks out at the water, then at me, trying to piece together why I brought him here. He realizes it must mean something but to him, it's just a pond in the middle of a forest. I know I should explain what we're doing here, but this moment is just too perfect for words. I need to be able to just sit and soak up everything here once again.

I go to the very edge of the pond and pull Peeta with me. We sit, hand in hand, silently staring out at the water. Finally, I break the silence.

"This is the pond my father used to take me to swim in whenever we could get away." Peeta is silent. "I haven't been here in years." More silence. "You're the only other person I've ever been able to take here."

He turns to look at me. "Well I am honored to be here with you." I can feel myself smiling and I look towards him and see that he is smiling too. He reminds me of my father in this light. Holding my hand, soaking our feet, and just talking. Even the way he smiles sparks memories from deep within my subconscious mind. When he brushes stray hairs from my face I know I can't be strong anymore. I break down and cry at the loss of my father.

My face falls onto Peeta's strong chest. I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me into him. I don't resist. I let him coax me out of the water and into his lap. His arms grow tighter around me and it only makes the tears come faster. Peeta doesn't panic or worry. He knows; he understands. He lost his father too. In very similar ways, when you lay it out. My father would have never worked in the mines if hadn't been for the forces of the Capitol. And Peeta's father was killed by the bombs of the Capitol itself. The Capitol did this to us. To them.

More tears come.

Peeta strokes my hair and whispers reassurances in my ear. I start to calm myself down, but just as I do, I hear him start to sniffle and I feel him shudder. _Oh no, please don't cry, _I think to myself. _I can't take it when you cry._ But it's no use. I feel the hot tears fall from his cheek onto my neck. When I hear his whispers begin to shake, I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. I look into his bloodshot and tear-filled eyes. I carefully wipe the tears from his saddened face. He's been through so much. We both have.

Suddenly, Peeta breaks the silence. "It's going to be okay, you know?"

I sniff. "I know."

"They're in a better place."

I nod. "They're waiting for us."

Peeta smiles. "They're waiting for your mother."

I can't help but laugh. _That they are,_ I think. Peeta reads my mind and replies, "But don't worry, I'll tell my father to back off."

We both laugh. _That's Peeta, for you. He always knows what to say to make everything right again. _Peeta reaches up and strokes my cheek. I lean into his hand and he brings my face to his. He kisses my forehead and gives me one last reassuring squeeze before taking my hand and guiding me to stand as he does the same. We walk, hand in hand, and head back to Peeta's house where I sit in his living room as he bakes for us. The smell of the delicious pastries I wished for as a child drift toward me and I begin to relax.

When Peeta joins me on the couch, he brings with him intricately decorated pastries and cakes and lets me pick out whichever ones I want. I choose a chocolate one with a dusting of white powder and a small cake with light pink frosting. They both are delicious and I compliment him many times. He blushes each time.

The last thing I remember from that day is stretching out on the couch and laying my head in Peeta's lap. He stroked my hair as he sweetly sang me to sleep.

I woke up the next day in Peeta's arms, bundled up in the blankets on his bed.


	4. Peeta Intermezzo

**Peeta Intermezzo**

I wake in the middle of the night and she isn't by my side. My instant reaction is to panic, and I do, before I remember she told me last night she would be going hunting early in the morning. I have to calm my no pacing heart but I know she's just fine. She's probably the only person I would trust to go out on her own and come back in one piece.

But I still can't help but worry. I try to find ways to occupy my wandering mind. I bathe and dress and make Katniss's bed. Even though we share it now, it's not "our" bed. I have a bed in my house. this isn't "ours." Not yet anyway. I know one day it will be, though. She's chosen me. The one she can't survive without. I realize now it was very insensitive for Gale to say that and even more insensitive for me not to deny, but in all reality, it's true. With Gale, she would have lived a very serious, never resting life. Happy, of course, but not right. I've convinced myself it's for the best he's off in  
Two not, but I still can't help but feel for him. I know what it's like to be kept from the one you love.

I continue to clean and somehow I end up in the kitchen. Ramses is chirping and singing his sweet morning song on his perch in the window. He has a cage and a house but he only goes in to sleep, eat, and clean his feathers. When he's not doing any of those things his flying about the house and even the yard -after a long process of coaxing- catching bugs and keeping our house free of pests. We had plans of letting him go free when he grew up enough, but we quickly realized, after he refused to leave his cage when we brought it outside, he was not going to leave us anytime soon. We didn't mind though. It was killing us to know that he was going to have to go out on his own soon. Even Katniss, the one

I convinced to let him stay in the first place, started making up excuses as to why he should stay we needed a "spider catcher" an in the house and Ramses was the only one who would do that. Buttercup only catches flies so he wouldn't be able to replace him. _Always thinking practically. _Eventually, we both realized we couldn't make him stay. We had no choice but to set him free. We were relieved to find out that he had no intention of leaving us.

I go to the window and greet our baby. He nibbles my fingers as he climbs into my hand. He looks at me with his dark eyes and I swear he can see into my mind. He sees the tortured memories and mangled faces of the people I once knew. He sees the shiny venom-corrupted memories I was given by the Capitol to replace the healthy memories they stripped from my soul. But he can see through all that. He can see the person I used to be and strive so hard to be once again. I try, and he knows it, to be the best I can be, for him and for his adoptive mother. Thee are the two pieces of my heart, that,, without them, would send me into a venom-fueled frenzy I couldn't hope to ever be free of.

Ever.

But thankfully, that won't happen happen anytime soon. Ramses is still young and as long as I'm around, nothing will ever touch Katniss. The one I can't survive without.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I walk in to a very clean house and I hear Peeta and Ramses talking in the kitchen. Peeta would say something and Ramses would sing back, repeating the rise and fall of the tones in his voice.

Up up down up down.

They don't know I'm listening but I think Ramses suspects something by the way he pauses his response when I start to walk towards their voices. As I peer around the corner, Peeta starts to sing the Valley Song and I realize what he's been telling Ramses about: the day he first fell in love with me.

Ramses is completely enthralled in Peeta's singing, so when I slip into the kitchen and pick up where Peeta has left off, the both are surprised, to say the least. Peeta stops singing immediately and turns to me, eyes wide in awe. Ramses bores his dark eyes into mine, not wanting to miss a second of this rare occasion: Mommy singing. I finish the stanza as I walk toward them. I can't help but smile as I sing. Just seeing those two love birds stare at me like I'm some magical creature they've never dreamed of before is enough to make even the most cold-hearted fiends feel at least a little bit of warmth encase their heart and hold it gingerly in a golden glow of happiness.

When my singing stops, there is no sound. I can't hear my own breath. Ramses doesn't repeat my song and Peeta doesn't continue it. Then I realize why they are staring at me in such shock. I haven't sung since Prim's death. That's been nearly a year. Then it occurs to me that while it's been a while since Peeta's heard me sing, he still knows what I sound like. But Ramses has never heard me.

And now he's stopping to listen.

When it's been too long for anyone to bear I tell Ramses "Go ahead. I'm done," and as if he understands me he begins to sing my song. I move to Peeta and kiss him good morning. Then Ramses, still singing but feeling very left out of all this affection, jumps onto my hand and pokes my arm with his beak. I bring him up to my face and kiss him on the top of his soft feathered head. This he is content with and he starts to sing my song with little twists of his own. _My musical baby_ I think. _Just like your grandpa. And your daddy._

"Just like his mom." Peeta smiles and puts his arm around me. Ramses is still standing on my hand between us but as we start to talk, his chirps become quieter.

"Just like his dad," I reply. We smile and take Ramses into the back yard. He promptly takes off, passing his song to the other mocking jays around the yard. He finds an acceptable perching branch and calls to his friends to join him.

Peeta and I sit in the swing on the back porch. I love to sit out here with him and listen to the world around us. This new world we live in has completely turned around and we no longer hear the pounding of Peacekeeper boots, the cries of a man being tortured, or the moans of a starving child. Instead we hear birds and leaves and general happiness from the homes around us. Occasionally we will hear the hum of a hovercraft from overhead, bringing travelers to other districts. A few better off families have moved into some of the remaining houses that have managed to survive, or have been rebuilt as mine and Peeta's have, in the Victor's Village. Their children play outside with their pets and toys and sometimes even Ramses, when he feels so inclined as to grace them with his presence. He is, however, quite fond of a little girl who lives two houses down, one closer than Haymitch, whom Ramses has taken a liking to. She has jet black, curly hair, brown eyes, and dark skin, but not as dark as many of the people from District 11. She is about 9 or 10 years old and quite short for her age but that doesn't stop her from running around with the other kids and keeping up with her two older brothers, who are very tall for their age.

She comes over almost every day and asks to play with Ramses who will fly to the door and land on top of her head. Then she runs through the house to the backyard where they'll talk and play for hours until her mother or father comes to fetch her. They are nice enough people. They remind me very much of Peeta and I. Except their roles are switched. He isn't overly friendly, which is why he and I get along so well. We have gone hunting before and I taught him some of my signature snares. We don't talk much but we get along. His wife in the other hand, is very talkative and is always wanting to exchange recipes or ideas for a new fashion line she "just thought of when she saw the tree across the street." However, I'm not much of a conversationalist, so I just smile politely and direct her to Peeta, who is more than happy to share the names of the cheeses he uses in his cheese buns and help her draw a sketch of a new dress inspired by something she saw on the walk over. Peeta likes the conversation, I like the lack-there-of and Ramses likes the attention from the little girl. Overall, it's a healthy, mutually beneficial relationship.

Peeta and I have just settled down on the swing when I hear the familiar "shave and a haircut" knock on our door.

"Come around to the back, Rose," I call to the little girl.

It's her signature knock so I'm surprised when it's not Ramses friends' voice I hear but a person I haven't seen since the uprising. Someone who saved my sanity and signed the release form for the insane asylum at the same time. Someone I could trust with anything. Someone I loved.

"I've never heard that nickname before, Catnip."

Gale.

I feel my eyes instantly widen and my body stiffens. Peeta's arm goes protectively around my shoulders as we both, simultaneously, look towards the familiar voice. My eyes instantly find his and I'm frozen. I don't know what to do or where to go and certainly not what to say. Luckily, Peeta reads my mind and breaks the silence. "Hello, Gale," he says welcomingly with a questioning tone. Gale nods. "Nice to see you again." Peeta releases my shoulders and stands to greet our guest. I am still frozen and my eyes are locked on Gale's. Peeta gestures for Gale to come closer as he walks toward him. Gale does and he and Peeta meet at the base of the porch and shake hands.

"It's nice to see you too, Peeta," Gale replies. He looks around Peeta toward me. "You too, Katniss." I still can't speak. I have however recovered enough to stand and join Peeta at the bottom of the steps. Gale holds out his arms for a hug and his devilish smile encases my mind. I timidly walk into in arms and accept his warm embrace. For a short time I feel myself relax and am able to return the hug, but it's quickly squelched when I remember Peeta is standing not two feet away from us no doubt just as confused as I am at the moment.

I pull away and move back to Peeta. I suddenly find my voice and ask the question we're all wondering. "What are you doing here?" I realize as soon as I've said it, it came out far too hostile than I had planned and I see the hurt on Gale's face. I quickly try to recover what little friendliness had been present before I killed it. "I mean, what brings you to District 12, your old homeland?" It sounds forced, and everyone knows it. I try to recover again, but thankfully Gale cuts me off.

"I've just come back for a little while to visit my friends and-." He stops short. There's something else he wants to say but the words won't come. He wracks his brain for the right words, but they don't come. Instead he turns away and calls over his shoulder to, "Wait one second." He runs off in the direction he came as Peeta and I stare perplexed, after him. Peeta's arm instinctively wraps around my waist, pulling me towards him. Gale quickly returns with a bundle in his arms. It's wrapped so tightly I can't see what is in it. Gale is smiling wildly and holding the bundle as if his life depends upon it. Finally he says, "There's someone I want you to meet," and gestures to the side of the house. An average height, blond, light skinned woman in a long blue and gray swirled dress peeks around the corner. She is very timid and it takes a lot of coaxing for Gale to finally get her over to the porch. He is smiling like a mad man and she's trying to put on a friendly face for the two people interrogating her with their eyes, those people being Peeta and me. I'm not sure how he speaks so clearly when he's smiling so much but through his giddy expression, Gale manages to introduce her to us. "This is Vivienne. My wife." A small gasp from me and a pause. "And this is Helen, our daughter."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I told you I would have kids if I didn't stay here," Gale explains. "When I got that job in Two, I knew I needed to take it if I ever wanted to have a chance at a normal life. And it was a good thing I did; otherwise I would never have met Vivienne. I saw her walking into the market on my way to work not two weeks after I moved there. I was in a cab and I had the driver pull over as soon as I saw her. I paid him and ran into the market. I looked down all the isles and was about to give up my search when I heard a woman talking to a cashier. I knew immediately the voice belonged to her and when I turned and saw I was right it was as if the whole world had stopped and all that mattered was that I was I had found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with."

"And I saw some mad man run through the store and then stop to stare at me as my items were being rung up. The cashier was talking to me but I was too distracted by this maniac," she nudges Gale, "to realize what she was saying. I don't even remember what I bought!"

"Well I don't think you care too much when I finally talked to you," Gale playfully retorts. "I asked you to lunch and you said yes, after all!"

Seeing them so comfortable and obviously in love makes me almost jealous. I love- no, loved- Gale and he is mine. But then I realize I have found the same relationship Gale has, with Peeta. As Gale describes his feelings toward Vivienne, I know that while I didn't feel any of those things right away, everything he says rings true now. I see Peeta and he's the only one I see for me. There is no question _now._ I look back at how I had used our love as a survival tool, but I don't have to fight to do that anymore. And yet, Peeta is the still the one I need to survive. He keeps me sane and functioning and I play a similar role for him. Our relationship is more strained apart than together. Even if at one point my feelings were questioned, I have no doubt now that I have those feelings my mother would tell me about before my father died. The ones she felt for my father. The ones Gale feels for this woman who now sits on my couch cradling their baby.

**This chapter is by no means done but I wanted to get it up here while I was still on a roll.**


End file.
